A Touch of Destiny
by Herbert Holmes
Summary: How different the galaxy would have looked had Luke gone to Alderaan and Leia been raised a moisture farmer.  Things start out familiar, but soon begin to turn out very differently.   Chapter 5 now up.
1. Prologue

*Disclaimer: Star Wars and everything associated with it belongs to George Lucas. I'm just playing in his universe. I am not making ANY money off of this story.

**Prologue**

First there was the Force.

Then there was Qui-Gon Jinn.

Through the ethereal swirls and beautiful chaos, the former Jedi Master floated free. Unencumbered by desire and need, his soul was at once on Tatooine and everywhere. The trivialities of the sandstorms seemed as dangerous as the dust on an insect to him. There was no fear, no regret and no longing. There was just the Force.

It had been several years since his death at the hands of the Sith assassin. At first, it had only been death. He had been there, fighting for his life, and then he was looking into the anguished eyes of his apprentice, pleading with him to train the curious boy they had found on a desert world. Soon after that, there was nothing.

And then there was something.

The Force had greeted him lovingly but without ceremony. He was both alone and not. Free of form and the limitations of human thought, he was everywhere and nowhere. There was no divide between the Force and his own soul. He could be anywhere and everywhere, but presently, he had rooted himself in the shifting sands of the Dune Sea.

There were no other beings for kilometers, none but the hooded figure making his way slowly through the sand dunes on the back of a reluctant beast. Qui-Gon drifted in nothingness and watched his former apprentice—now a skilled Jedi Knight—carry out the most important mission he had ever been faced with. The bundle in his arms wriggled somewhat, but the child remained asleep, unaware that his sister was currently being taken to the world of Alderaan to be raised amid the glittering mountains of the home of Bail Organa. The boy, Luke, would be brought up amid humbleness and love. Together, the two would eventually play their parts: she, a steadfast diplomat with the means and training to organize the Rebel forces; he with the skill and drive to become one of their greatest champions.

This whole planet had a touch of destiny hanging about it. This was where Anakin Skywalker had first captivated Qui-Gon with his innocence, where that same child had returned and lost a part of his soul to the fires of rage and grief, where Obi-Wan Kenobi had sequestered himself following the horrors of the Empire's purge of the Jedi, where Luke Skywalker would first learn of the Force, where Owen and Beru Lars would perish at the hands of the Empire, where Luke and his sister would fight for the life of their friend, Han Solo. Qui-Gon saw the streets of Mos Eisely filled with beings celebrating the demise of the Empire.

The future began at this point, with a small child being handed over to a family surviving in the harshest of conditions.

Qui-Gon stretched out, feeling the points where present and future connected. Causality rippled off into the distance like a chain reaction. He saw where decisions caused branches to form in the fabric of the universe, sending entire alternate universes hurtling off into futures of their own. He focused on the child, finding several branches stretching into the past and future like wings. In one, Anakin and Padmé watch their children grow up on Naboo. In another, a vicious plague sweeps through the galaxy, weakening the Empire to the point of collapse long before Luke Skywalker has a chance to mature. Endless possibilities stretching on into the limitless boundaries of the universe. One such thread intrigued him. He reached out and found himself being pulled to the _Tantive IV_ in orbit around Naboo quietly watching an exchange between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa. The grief of thousands of deaths weighed heavily on Obi-Wan's shoulders but he refused to show it. The only indication of what had happened could be heard in Bail Organa's stricken voice.

"My wife and I will take the boy," he said. "We've always talked of adopting a baby boy. He will be loved with us."

_Such a simple transposition,_ Qui-Gon thought to himself. _Luke is raised a prince while Leia grows up a moisture farmer_. _How different the galaxy would have been._

Returning to Tatooine effortlessly with a thought, Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan hand the child to Owen Lars with as much solemnity as if he were crowning a new king. The young man seemed to understand what was being asked of him as he gently took the infant to his new wife, Beru. As the two gazed into a vibrant double sunset, Qui-Gon found the stray thread he had visited earlier and reached out to it, giving in to his curiosity. The scene before him remained unchanged except, of course, for the child in their arms, who was now a baby girl.

Qui-Gon smiled to himself as he watched the alternate future unfold. His own universe would still be there waiting for him. After all, he had eternity.

_Let's see how things could have been._


	2. 1: The Beginnings of Hope

1 : The Beginnings of Hope

The _Tantive IV_ raced through the blackness of space, its sublight engines pushing themselves almost to overload. Once, this ship had been a proud member of the Alderaan fleet, but the rigors of wartime and the dwindling resources of the Rebel Alliance had stripped this ship down to its essentials. Though used to running from Imperial forces, the massive, bone-white star destroyer that loomed behind it was gaining quickly. Turbolaser fire lanced out, raking the ship's shields and sending shudders throughout the ship. The _Tantive IV _was dying.

"We're going to be boarded!" Captain Raymus Antilles shouted to the rest of his bridge crew who were flying over every major system, locking out the main computer and shutting down any system which could be used against them. "Prepare to repel boarding parties. I want all available men covering the main airlock. Move!"

Though generally a reserved man, Captain Antilles quickly found himself feeling frantic. If his suspicions were correct about who was in command of that star destroyer were true, then none of them were getting out of this alive. He turned to the man beside him, a regal youth of about nineteen years of age, dressed simply but elegantly in the classical style his father favored.

"Any ideas, your highness?"

The man nodded, appearing unconcerned. "I expected such an attack. The Death Star plans are well hidden, Captain. We have little to fear."

Captain Antilles scoffed. "I can't tell if you're being confident or arrogant, sir. You have heard what they do to prisoners, haven't you? What about Imperial senators who are revealed to be key members of the Alliance? If I were you, I'd be looking for a plan of escape."

"And leave the ship behind?" The question hung in the air like an accusation.

"Of course not, but we've already lost the ship and I'm out of ideas."

The prince rounded on Antilles. "Those plans are bigger than you, me, or this ship. Any of us are expendable as long as they further the Alliance's cause." A distant thud echoed through the ship, distracting him momentarily. "However, I'm not prepared to surrender this ship or anyone on it to the Empire. You have my word, Captain."

"If you say so, sir." Antilles glanced out the bridge viewport. A dusty planet rotated quietly off to the port side of the ship. "Should we abandon ship? That planet doesn't look very welcoming, but we might have a chance there."

The prince shook his head. "The star destroyer would try to shoot down the pods. Even if some did make it to the planet, I know some wouldn't make it. I'm not willing to risk anyone in a stunt like that." He allowed himself a brief, faint smile. "I do need you to release the safeties. Make it look like a malfunction as best you can. It would be a pity if any of our escape pods just happened to accidentally jettison during the attack." He shot a wink to the Captain, who nodded.

"I don't know what you're up to, sir, but I trust you."

"Thank you captain. And drop the titles. It's just Luke."

"Yes, your highn—Luke."

Prince Luke Organa of Alderaan inclined his head and left the bridge, his half-cape flaring behind him.

* * *

><p>R2-D2 appreciated having C-3P0 around, but sometimes he wished he could just trundle off and leave the frantic gold-colored droid behind (not that he would ever do such a thing). The prince had made it very clear that Artoo was to reveal the information to no one but Obi-Wan Kenobi. The droid had immediately double-encrypted the data into the deepest recesses of his programming and had then created several dummy files that were much more easily accessible. Were any Imperials to break into those files, all they would find would be schematics for outdated Nubian fighters as well as a particularly insidious computer virus that would eventually disrupt any device attempting to read the information.<p>

The prince's files were safely hidden. Now, all that needed to be done was to hide himself.

Threepio started as he noticed Artoo hobbling into an open escape pod and began protesting. Artoo tweeted a reply back to the droid, being careful to keep any references to the prince's mission well veiled. If the protocol droid was captured, it would be much easier to extract the information from him. His more human mannerisms and synthetic emotions made him much more easy to read and manipulate. It was times like this that Artoo enjoyed being an astromech droid. It was easy to slip into the background. When they had been transferred into the service of Captain Antilles, Bail Organa had only requested a memory wipe for Threepio, leaving all of Artoo's knowledge of everything that had happened before the formation of the Empire intact. Such knowledge was dangerous, so Artoo rarely volunteered such information to anyone, but it was there, lurking within his digital memory.

Finally Threepio relented. "I'm going to regret this," he said as he huddled into the escape pod after Artoo.

* * *

><p>Luke Organa rounded the corner to behold a terrifying sight. Darth Vader, the Emperor's vicious right hand man, stood tall amidst a sea of bodies—men Luke had vowed to protect. Captain Antilles would have insisted that it was their duty to protect <em>him<em>, but Luke still felt a great surge of guilt at seeing the dead strewn about like discarded armor.

He steadied his voice. "Lord Vader, I was willing to offer myself up freely. None of these men deserved to die."

The armored and cloaked figure approached him with a deadly smoothness. "Why would you need to offer yourself up?" The distorted, bass voice chilled Luke to the bone. "You admit that you carry the stolen plans?"

"I admit nothing," Luke said, maintaining a haughty stance. "Meaningless violence is the Empire's way, isn't it? I would much rather offer myself up as a prisoner than allow you to capture my ship and murder my men."

Vader pointed a gloved finger at Luke. "Your pithy attempt at appearing noble will do you little good, your highness. I know that you are helping the Rebel Alliance and I want to know where the plans you intercepted are being kept."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "I am an Imperial senator to Alderaan transporting—"

Vader cut him off. "You are a traitor. Nothing else." He turned to the stormtroopers arrayed behind him. "Take him away."

* * *

><p>Leia Skywalker shook her head as a vendor shoved a sparking piece of machinery in her face. The inexpensive part she needed was sitting on a shelf behind the Gamorrean, but he had refused to show it to her until he had taken her through his entire inventory. Biting back a scathing reply, Leia forced herself to be patient.<p>

After all, life in Mos Eisley was hardly easy for anyone. She couldn't blame the Gamorrean vendor for being desperate. The only real industry was chance. Beings survived on luck until it ran out and then they lost everything. If someone could get a hold of a ship, they could leave and try to make it somewhere else, but, sooner or later, everyone returned to drown their lives away in one of the local cantinas.

After some brief haggling, Leia finally got the part she needed. Though she thanked the vendor, he seemed disappointed that she hadn't bought anything else. From the looks of his inventory, the fuel converter she had bought had been the only functional item he had had.

It was easy to walk through the streets of Mos Eisley and feel like you were so far from civilization that you were, in fact, in another galaxy. Leia's decision to move to the spaceport had been hard on her aunt and uncle, but they had eventually understood. Her aunt Beru had always been fiercely protective of her, as if she were a crown jewel to be hidden from the world. Tough love had always been uncle Owen's tactic, but beneath it all, she could tell that he adored her as much as her aunt.

Living with them had been wonderful, but that tiny house in the middle of nowhere was filled with the ghosts of generations past. Certain areas seemed to be so emotionally charged that she almost felt like an intruder. The garage, for one, had seemed to be so filled with anguish and rage that Leia was sure something awful had happened. Uncle Owen had told her that spirits and magic and all that nonsense were pure fantasy and Leia had believed him. The only other alternative had been that those feelings were simmering deep within herself somewhere as her soul was wasted away in the stagnation of this endless desert.

The decision had not been made lightly, but it had come at the right time. Uncle Owen had been able to hire some new workers to help with the harvest and they had agreed that she should be able to go and see for herself what she could find.

The tiny repair shop and the closet-sized living space she now owned were meager to the point of comical, but it was her shop. She had leased it for a few months before the owner had been killed in a bar brawl and sole ownership went to her since nobody stepped forward to claim the shop. It had been fortuitous for her. She had poured her soul into the shop, collecting pieces from Jawas and traders and even rummaging through junk piles. She was a talented mechanic and had a knack for making even stubborn parts work. That alone had kept her business alive.

The evening streets were quieting down as everyone rushed inside to stay warm during the frigid desert nights. The air was still sweltering, but without the constant bombardment by the suns, the heat was actually quite pleasant. A stubborn ronto was giving a group of jittery Jawa's some trouble, but apart from that, the streets were quiet.

Until she heard blasterfire from within one of the local cantinas. It wasn't that unusual an occurrence, though, so Leia just crossed to the opposite side of the street. Moments later, a staggering human and a hulking Wookiee ran out of the cantina at full tilt. The bartender appeared a few seconds later, screaming curses at them as they fled. The human man caught Leia's eye and despite the fact that he was the most ungraceful runner Leia had ever seen, managed to try and shoot her a roguish grin. She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

At least it was never boring in Mos Eisley, she thought to herself as she headed home, the twin suns simmering over the horizon like veiled jewels, scored and dulled by the desert sands.


	3. 2: I Have a Bad Feeling about This

2: "I Have a Bad Feeling About This"

C-3P0 was having the _worst_ day of his life.

Surrounded by sand, the only thing he knew for sure was that he and Artoo weren't going to make it out of this desert intact. Every move he made sent unpleasant grating sounds up through his frame and his joints were so corroded with grit and dust that he could barely move properly. Whoever had constructed Threepio had obviously _never _intended Threepio to be in a desert environment. Artoo had not complained once since they had left on this idiotic journey, but surely the astromech droid's treads were suffering brutally in this abrasive environment. A series of rocky forms rose out in the distance to their left. To their right, the dunes sloped off into infinity. The thought of navigating rough, rocky terrain horrified Threepio. The sand dunes were endless, but at least they were smooth.

To Threepio's horror, he noticed Artoo making a beeline towards the rocks. He quickly scuttled over to Artoo to convince him to take an easier route, when he noticed several forms in the distance. _There shouldn't be anyone here in the desert_, he thought to himself.

"Artoo! Artoo, look! We're saved!"

The domed droid blatted a response and kept heading towards the rocks.

"Why would they be looking for us? No one knows we're here!"

Artoo paused, rotated the top of his dome and let loose a series of high-pitched beeps.

"You're not making any sense. Who is this Obi-Wan Kenobi anyway?"

Artoo twittered.

"I've had enough of your ridiculous secret mission. I am going to get us rescued."

The astromech shrieked at him.

"How would you know what kind of dangerous beings live on this planet?"

Artoo beeped.

"Tusken raiders? Are you sure?"

Artoo tweeted an affirmative.

Threepio gave another longing look at the crowd of wavy beings and then decided to err on the side of caution. Rescue was a tempting offer, but disassembly was not. He cursed the droid's logic and followed him towards the rocks.

* * *

><p>Artoo could tell that the squad of stormtroopers were quickly gaining. At this moment, he almost wished they were actually Tusken Raiders. Though dangerous, they weren't interested in droids. Threepio continued to fuss and complain behind him, but Artoo was focused on the stormtroopers.<p>

Artoo wished they had landed further out into the desert, allowing the winds to obliterate their direction of escape from the pod, but such had not been the case. They were leaving a very obvious trail behind and the absence of wind was not helping. Soon they would be in the hands of the Empire and the plans would be theirs.

The prince had insisted on taking a much more indirect route to Alderaan in order to avoid the main shipping lanes where Imperial vessels would most likely have been found. Artoo had been present when Captain Antilles had insisted that they take a direct route so as to appear completely ordinary. Eventually, the prince had decided that any facades they adopted would only serve to make them more obvious and put them in more danger. He had insisted that, although they would arrive behind schedule, it would be for the better. Whether or not the prince's course of action was correct or not, the truth of the matter was that the prince was either captured or dead and everyone on the ship was no more.

He had failed in his mission. Nonetheless, Artoo continued to head for the rocks, for Threepio's sake. Were the protocol droid to panic, the situation would only worsen.

* * *

><p>Luke hadn't expected Vader to be so accommodating. A blaster bolt, a slash from his famed Jedi lightsaber, a crushing telekinetic end—the fame of Darth Vader's cruelty was vast. A tiny cell in the bowels of some Imperial stronghold seemed almost hospitable in comparison. The fate of the crew of the <em>Tantive IV<em> was unknown, but Luke suspected they were all dead or would be dead shortly. He had been led away by Vader personally and had not seen any of his compatriots since the previous day.

The trip had been silent and cold, as if he had already died and his body was merely being ferried to its final resting place. Assured that his bonds had been secure, none had paid him any mind. Several half-formed escape plans had flashed through his mind, but all had collapsed under the crushing reality of his situation. There was very little room in the lambda-class shuttle they had traveled in and, unless he had been able to subdue the eight occupants, including Vader, all simultaneously, he hadn't a hope of taking two steps before he would be slaughtered.

His decision to be patient had seemed to impress Vader, or at least surprise him somewhat. As the squad of stormtroopers had gathered him up to transport him to his cell, Vader's glance had lingered on Luke for a brief moment. At first Luke had assumed that he had just misread Vader's blank stare. Without visible eyes, it would be impossible to see where exactly someone was looking, yet still Luke had felt some kind of cold flickering at the base of his skull, as if a pair of infinitely vast eyes was peering deep into his very mind.

Rumors of Vader's near-mythical powers were commonplace. It was well known that he had been a Jedi, but no specifics could be found. Facts in Imperial databases were sketchy around the time of the formation of the Empire. Descriptions of a vicious army of Jedi were found here, but contradicted there. Names of heroes were also labeled as villains. Based on pure, incontrovertible fact, it seemed like the Empire suddenly arose out of nothingness and quickly became the dominant government in the galaxy. Luke knew that couldn't possibly be true, but he had never been able to find any reliable facts with which to fashion a logical narrative of events before the Empire.

All Luke knew was that Vader was more than simply a man or a cybernetically enhanced soldier; he was powerful in ways that few understood.

The click of armored footsteps, punctuated steadily with hoarse, mechanical breathing broke Luke out of his reverie. Vader had returned.

Luke stood to face the looming, dark figure, hands clasped behind his back and knees relaxed. A visiting dignitary would not have asked for so much. Vader broke the silence first.

"Your attempt to hide the stolen plans has failed. I know you sent them down to Tatooine on an escape pod. I have a full squadron of stormtroopers on the surface now. They will find them and bring them to me."

Luke remained silent. Vader turned to the troopers behind him who were leading a hovering spherical interrogation droid and waved them off.

"I will deal with him myself."

Luke watched them leave, noticing the syringe attached to the droid's side. He suppressed a shudder. Interrogation droids were illegal and incredibly dangerous. If Vader didn't feel the need to use one, then he had something else in mind. Something worse.

Before he could speak, a wave of physical rage flooded off Vader, smashing Luke against the wall of his cell. His breath flooded from his body in a single _whuff_ and he began choking on nothingness. Struggling was no good since there didn't seem to be anything to struggle against. He was helpless.

Vader lifted a gloved hand and Luke rose with it, ending up suspended against the wall above his sleeping pallet, pinned against the wall like an insect in a museum display.

"Your pathetic attempt to steal the plans has failed. Your rebellion will soon follow. Tell me where the rebel base is located."

Luke gasped, but said nothing.

Vader opened his fist and Luke smashed down onto the metal pallet. Welcome air flooded his straining lungs as he dragged himself into an upright position. "You will have to kill me, Vader," he said, fighting to keep his hoarse voice even. "I will never reveal anything to you."

Vader lifted his hand again, gloved fist poised to strike again. The mechanical voice seemed to resonate deep inside Luke's skull. "You _will_ reveal the location of the rebel base to me." Luke felt probing fingers of thought searching deep behind his eyes. He felt a rising compulsion to speak, but fought it back. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he resisted the mental assault. _You will. You will. You WILL. _The words echoed endlessly. Luke felt the information rising to the surface against his will. Betrayal of his comrades was hanging on the tip of his tongue.

Summoning every last scrap of will remaining, Luke fought back. A roaring, "NO!" exploded out of him as he forced Vader's influence away from him. His terror and rage at being so violated rose from the deepest parts of his core and pushed Vader out of his mind.

Blackness enveloped him as he lost consciousness. He didn't even have time to see Vader staggering back from the lances of cerulean electricity which had exploded from the tips of Luke's fingers in that brief moment of unbridled rage.

* * *

><p>Leia sat up in bed, gasping for air. It took her eyes a few seconds to banish the lingering nightmare images and replace them with the reality of her small living quarters. Her wildly racing heartbeat slowed down to normal speeds as her mind began to lose its grip on the imaginary world it had created while she slept.<p>

Throwing her thin coverlet off, she rose out of bed and began to pace, as she always did when she was nervous. Aunt Beru used to tell her that she should go do chores instead of pacing as the work would take her mind off of whatever was bothering her. Now, she wanted to remember the dream. Something about it had seemed so relevant, so immediate. If she had been more superstitious, she might have believed it could have been a premonition. Now, she just looked at it as a window into her own jumbled thoughts.

There had been a foe. A dark, formless foe. Her surroundings had been so alien as to seem fictional. A green world dominated by towering forms, a massive metal structure silhouetted against a strange sky, a man wreathed in black, and a friend in trouble. Out of the dark came a writhing shadow so consumed by evil that all life around it seemed to shrivel and die. The shadow had called her name and then had approached her with the swiftness of a serpent. Seconds before the oily darkness had reached her, a shining blue light had appeared before her eyes. She had been comforted by the light, but it had not been enough. The darkness reached her, consumed her, destroyed her—

—and then she had awoken.

The gentle thrum of Mos Eisley reached her ears. Even at night, when the sands gave off very little warmth and the air was almost brutally chilled, the city still lived. Beings who favored the cold and darkness conducted business at that time. Speeders, beasts of burden and ships in the spaceport never slept. Leia reached for her traveling gear. "I have a bad feeling about this," she muttered to herself as she gathered up her gear.

She was going to visit her aunt and uncle. Something was very wrong. Giving completely to her rarely-used intuition, Leia Skywalker set out to cross the Jundland Wastes of the Dune Sea.


	4. 3: Intersections and Tangents

3: Intersections and Tangents

"I think I've just about had it with deserts," Han Solo said to the hulking Wookiee sitting next to him. Even in the murky heat of the cantina, he could still feel the dead, raspy presence of Tatooine's desert tickling at the back of his throat. Every planet had that one thing that drives you towards madness, but Han had usually been able to shake it off. Tatooine was different. It was…depressing.

Chewbacca grunted a reply and glanced about the room, keeping an eye out for the Rodian that had cornered them the night before. They had thus far been able to avoid the green-skinned bounty hunter—one of Jabba the Hutt's slimier henchmen. Ducking under tables and hiding behind the band members may be less than elegant behavior, but the two of them were still alive and that was what counted. The day they could find a way to get to their ship without being noticed was the day they would be leaving this worthless world.

Knocking back the remainder of his oily drink, Han Solo prepared for a silent exit. A figure in a dark robe had just entered the cantina and was searching about as if looking for someone. "I'd know that slimy proboscis anywhere," Han muttered as they made their way towards the back exit. The hooded figure pulled out a small comlink and buzzed a rapid response to his employer.

The two of them had been pressing their luck far too much lately. It seemed like every time they rounded a corner, another one of Jabba's lackeys was waiting to collect the enormous bounty that awaited anyone who could capture the defiant Solo—the only one to fail to deliver a shipment of spice (that he knew of) while in the Hutt's employ. Glitterstim was highly prized and highly illegal, but Han Solo hadn't been stupid enough to risk holding on to it and have the Empire discover his cargo, no matter how well he had hidden it. It would have just been another addition to the long list of reasons why the Empire would like nothing better than to see him blasted into atomic dust.

"C'mon Chewie," he muttered over his shoulder. "I think it's time to leave."

The first of the suns was just beginning to peek over the horizon. At least they had the cover of twilight to give them some added anonymity. It also made it difficult for Han to see where he was going, he discovered as he crashed, headlong, into a pedestrian.

He muttered some kind of apology, but the pedestrian's fist quickly connected with the side of his head. He was shoved to the side, seeing stars as the being gathered itself up.

"Watch where you're going, nerf-herder!"

Han blinked. It was a woman. A human woman. Automatically, he flashed her a grin and spread his hands in apology. If he had been upright, it would have looked sincere, but since he was sprawled out in the sand, he just looked ridiculous. The woman rolled her eyes and helped him up.

"You don't look near smart enough to try and rob someone on the street," she said, her voice teetering between amusement and disgust.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I guess I was blinded by your unmatched beauty."

"Oh please," she bit out. "I'm going to go now. You'd better not follow me."

As she spun on her heel, Han dashed to her side, brushing dust off his black vest. "Where, may I ask, are you going? Do you need a pilot?"

She turned and scowled. "My, you must be desperate." She shook her head. "For the life of me, I can't imagine why I'm even telling you this but," she paused.

He leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow.

The faintest of smiles struggled to make itself known on her face, but she shook it away. "My aunt and uncle are moisture farmers, out beyond the Dune Sea. I am bringing them some supplies."

"Were you planning on walking?"

"Why yes! I was going to walk for eight days and probably die in the process!" She rolled her eyes again. "No, you moron, I was on my way to pick up my speeder."

He crossed his arms. She was irritated. Now was his chance. "Tusken raiders are crawling all over that desert. Going at it alone is a fool's errand."

"Well, perhaps you should go at it, then. Clearly you fit the job description."

He put his hands up in surrender. "Don't get excited, darling, I was just offering to be an escort. Chewie and I can handle anything." He gestured to the Wookiee behind him.

She leaned over and noticed Chewbacca for the first time. "Well, I feel safer with him than I do with you, but I suppose you're a packaged deal?"

"Naturally."

"And how much is this gallantry going to cost me?"

Han smiled. "Not a single credit."

She sighed. "Oh for…fine. Fine. If we get attacked by something, I'll hurl you out of the speeder and zoom away. You can either talk them to death or keep them occupied by running away and letting them chase you."

Han turned to Chewbacca. "Charming, isn't she?" Turning back to her, he held out his hand. "Captain Han Solo at your service."

She ignored the handshake. "Leia."

* * *

><p>Luke awoke on a small couch in a furnished cabin. For the briefest of moments, he imagined he was back on Alderaan in his own quarters. His involvement during the rebellion had required that he forego many of the usual comforts of his royal station from time to time. He understood that freeing the galaxy from the grip of the Empire was more important than his own personal comfort, but it was the familiarity of his family that he missed. His mother, Breha, would always know what to say to calm his doubts and his father, Bail, was a source of strength for millions. That strength had always encouraged Luke to remain steadfast amidst whatever calamity the Empire wreaked on the galaxy.<p>

Luke sat up and surveyed his surroundings: a small room attired in simple, monotone colors. Very few decorations adorned the walls, though there was an exotic sculpture on the simple metal table in the room's center. The room was almost comical. The minimalist Imperial design seemed desperate to appear friendly. Beneath the sparse attempts at decoration lurked the inescapable truth: this was still a cell.

The door whooshed open and a diminutive Imperial officer stepped through. Luke rose and faced the officer. "Where am I?" he asked.

The officer replied in a clipped accent. "Lord Vader wishes to see you. You will follow me."

Curiosity got the better of Luke and he followed the officer without another comment. It was very clear that they were not on a star destroyer. The hallways were larger and there was so omnipresent hum of the engines that was found on most large starships. Mouse droids, pilots and stormtroopers were everywhere. Luke was shocked he was not being led in restraints, but when he realized how futile such an act would be, he kept walking.

After several minutes of traversing corridors and riding lifts, they arrived at a large set of doors. The officer gave a terse bow and left Luke standing there, alone. He surveyed his surroundings. This part of the ship (or compound or whatever it was) was relatively empty. Escape would be almost too easy at this point.

As if in response to his thoughts, the doors slid open with an elegance rarely found in Imperial design. The room that greeted him was vast and dark. In the center stood a massive ebony sphere whose facets gleamed in the light spilling in from the corridor. The room appeared to be empty.

Until the sphere opened.

Luke flinched as the towering form of Darth Vader stepped out of the orb's white interior, his black cape flowing behind him like oily liquid. A combination of fear and confusion froze Luke in place. Was this going to be where Vader killed him after forcibly removing the pertinent information from his mind? He hadn't remembered what had happened the last time Vader had entered his mind, but he knew he probably could not have survived such an attack again. Banishing the anxiety that was creeping up his spine, Luke squared his shoulders and faced his captor, head on.

Vader's question was not what he was expecting.

"I am only going to ask this once: who were your parents?"

Luke frowned. "My parents are Breha and Bail Organa of the royal house of Al-"

"That is a lie, boy, told to you to save the life of a Jedi whose cowardice was more important than the truth. Now, tell me, who was your father?"

"I told you the truth!" Luke bit back, frustrated.

"Good." Vader's voice suddenly became almost sultry. "Your fear and anger are powerful."

"What is this about?" Luke said, reigning in his emotions. Clearly, an emotional response was what Vader wanted.

Vader gestured and Luke felt himself suddenly stumble forward, drawn forward as if by a hook attached to his chin. He landed on his knees.

"The Force is a gateway to near-unlimited power. That power is within your grasp."

"Power…But how?"

Vader continued. "Join me and together we can defeat the emperor and rid the galaxy of evil once and for all."

"But you serve…" Luke stopped, the horrific realization crashing over him like a wave. Vader didn't serve the emperor. He was biding his time until he could overthrow him. Vader wanted to be emperor and he had just offered his own job to Luke.

"Surely, you don't think I would serve you."

Vader inclined his masked head. "I know your rebellion had the death star plans. You died for them. Fought for them. I also know that those plans and the terror weapon they can overthrow are all insignificant compared to the power of the Force."

Luke buried his brief excitement deep down. The Empire hadn't yet found the droids, which meant this all might be a bluff to get Luke to lower his defenses.

"I'll never join you."

"How empty your words sound! In the detention block, you pushed me out of your mind; you attacked me with nothing more than your powerful connection to the Force. I know you want the power because I know you have always felt it. The Force is strong with you. I can teach you to harness that power. Together, we can rise up against the Emperor. Your rebellion will succeed."

Luke didn't want to believe a word of what Vader was saying, but a small part of his mind knew what Vader was saying was at least partly true. Small moments of frustration or extreme emotion in his past had sometimes resulted in inexplicable things happening. At times, when he was a small boy, it had seemed that he could even see things before they happened. He had asked his father about it, but he had simply said that it was intuition and an overactive imagination. That had been enough for Luke at the time, but now…Luke knew there must be something else at work.

Could it really be this Force?

Luke felt like a traitor, but he said the words anyway. He was a little boy again, curious to know how the galaxy worked. Things beyond that which was known, the world of imagination, suddenly came back to life. If Vader was telling the truth, than perhaps Luke would gain the ability to defeat him. He took a deep breath.

"Teach me."


	5. 4: Ghosts on the Horizon

4: Ghosts on the Horizon

Vader swept onto the command desk like a bird of prey seeking a rodent. Technicians and officers alike scattered before him. All except one. Grand Moff Tarkin faced the approaching figure with as much interest as if he were inspecting new cadets. Among the younger officers, there were rumors that Tarkin was immune to Vader's oft-feared abilities. Tarkin himself held no such illusions. His ability to bring Vader up short was the result of sheer willpower.

"Have you executed our guest yet?" the severe-looking officer asked dryly.

"Leave that to me," Vader replied. "I wish to interrogate him further.

Tarkin's mouth curled in a vicious smile. "Do you really believe that he will betray his own people, Lord Vader?" He turned away from the looming figure and faced the main viewport. "His death will show the rebels that their rebellion will be snuffed out soon enough. Keeping him alive accomplishes nothing."

"I will find new ways to motivate him to talk."

Tarkin turned. "Your Jedi powers are formidable, but the word of the Emperor is law. As far as I know, you do not control this Empire. I suggest you hold to our orders and kill the prisoner before it's too late."

Vader raised a hand. "I will inform the Emperor personally when I obtain any useful information. I do not answer to you."

Tarkin smiled again, this time without a trace of humor. "You are on my station, Vader, assisting me in my mission. I answer directly to the Emperor. A word from me and you will be forced to return to the Capital immediately."

Vader stepped forward. "You are unwise to challenge my powers."

"Perhaps, but I am safe in the knowledge that you need a stable command structure with which to work. Mutiny will only clutter up your investigation." He turned back to the viewport. "That is all."

Vader swept out of the room with no less intensity as he had when he had entered, but this time, officers merely stepped out of his way.

Tarkin turned to the navigator, once the doors closed behind Vader. "Set course for Alderaan."

* * *

><p>Leia had never been one to make idle conversation, but at that moment, she was doing her best to avoid it completely and stare straight ahead. The sands of the Dune Sea were monotonous, but at least they weren't trying to make friends with her.<p>

"So, how did you end up on a grease pit like Mos Eisley?"

"You first."

Solo grinned. "Work. Your turn."

Leia glared at him. "I have a hard time seeing you as anything other than a scoundrel."

Han began to respond, but paused. "Scoundrel? That has a nice ring to it. What else—"

He was interrupted by a sharp roar from behind him. Solo spun around to face the agitated Wookiee. "In the middle of the desert?"

Chewbacca replied by gesturing to the squadron of stormtroopers that suddenly came into view ahead of them as they crested a dune.

Leia killed the speeder's engines. "Where the hell did they come from?"

Han shrugged and reached for his blaster.

Leia shook her head. Save the heroics for when we actually need some. I'll take care of this.

The lead trooper waved them over to a small shaded dip in the sand. Leia followed, but never lost her composure. Though she had no love for the Empire, she had nothing to fear from them. Looking at the arrayed group of troopers, she noticed a pair of droids in the center of the formation, a protocol droid and an astromech. "What's all this about?" she asked the trooper.

"Imperial business," he replied in a gruff, exotically accented voice. Possibly Nubian, or Mandalorian, she thought to herself.

She spread her hands. "I never saw anything. May I be on my way?"

He inclined his head. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, first."

Leia frowned. "I don't know anything."

"Do you know anyone by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Kenobi? Leia tried to conceal her recognition of the name. The unusual hermit came into Mos Eisley periodically to gather supplies. He never made any trouble and rarely spoke to anyone. "Anyone I should know?" she asked out loud.

"He's wanted by the Empire. We captured two droids who are transporting stolen information to him."

Leia shook her head. "I don't recognize the name." Deep down, the small, irrational part of herself which she kept well hidden intoned a silent plea that the trooper would stop questioning her and move on.

The trooper waved a hand. "Fine. Move along, then."

Leia gave a terse smile and turned around just in time to see Han Solo draw his blaster on the trooper who had been questioning him. Before she could say anything, he squeezed the trigger. The trooper was thrown back, dead before he hit the ground, the smoking hole in his chestplate turning a vicious black.

Chaos followed soon after.

The ten troopers guarding the droids all raised their blasters in unison and opened fire on Han and Chewie who promptly returned fire. The Wookiee's bowcaster took out two troopers right away, the force of the bolts knocking them over like they were made of straw. Han's blaster, an outdated Blas-Tech model was weaker, but in the hands of its owner—who was using the speeder as a shield—it forced the troopers to abandon the droids and take shelter behind a small sand dune.

Leia realized very quickly that shouting wasn't going to stop anything. Whatever had caused Han to shoot that trooper was merely an excuse for him to start a fight. Unarmed, Leia crouched behind a small jutting stone. The trooper she had been talking too had raised his blaster rifle on her, obviously expecting her to pull a weapon, but when she had hurled some choice expletives Han's way, he must have realized that the attack was not planned and had pulled her to safety.

At the time, she had been running on instinct, but after a few moments, she realized that his unusual gallantry was very inconsistent with the portrait of Imperial stormtroopers she had met before. Duty and following orders superseded any personal opinions or decisions. Imperial troops were loyal and obedient and, most important of all, absent of any personality or wants. She shot a look at the trooper, his white armor scoured by the sand and desert heat, and wondered what was going on in his head. She didn't even notice that he had aimed his rifle at Han's head and was preparing to decapitate the idiotic, but frustratingly charming smuggler.

She reached out and forced him to lower the muzzle. "Don't shoot him. He's an idiot, but not worth the effort." He resisted for a moment but shot her a terse nod and lowered his rifle. She pulled out a small comlink and pressed a hidden button—a unique modification she had added last year after a team of determined Jawas had almost made off with her speeder while she was negotiating for a personal moisture vaporator from a traveling vendor.

The engines flared to life for a few moments. The kickback from the engines knocked Han on his back and the speeder coasted away, relieving Han of his shield. The sudden movement startled the attacking troopers and they ceased fire long enough for Leia for step between them. "What we have had here is a misunderstanding."

The commanding trooper joined Leia, realizing what she had planned. "She's right."

One of the other troopers raised his rifle on Han. "Sir, attacking Imperial troops is a crime."

"So, we take him into custody, lieutenant," the commander shot back.

"Custody?"

Even through his armor, the commander looked uncomfortable. "The violence ends here." He tossed his rifle into the sand.

Leia blinked. A compassionate stormtrooper? Even Han seemed disarmed by the commander's comments.

The six remaining troopers quickly arranged themselves into formation. The lieutenant raised his rifle at his commanding officer. "Sir, you'd better come with us."

One of the droids, probably the protocol droid, raised his voice. "Someone's coming!"

Everyone present spun to face a hooded figure that was approaching rapidly. He hardly seemed threatening, but the stormtroopers all reacted in fear as if the man was followed by a krayt dragon or a swarm of gundarks. They staggered back and raised their rifles. Leia turned to the commander and noticed that he had raised his rifle too, but was not reacting as strongly as the rest in his squad.

Han turned to Chewie. "What's going on?"

The Wookiee growled a response.

"Don't be silly. There aren't any left."

Leia moved next to the commander. "What do you see?"

He shook his head. "I…I don't know. It's just some being in a robe, but I could have sworn I heard a rancor."

The approaching figure raised his hood, revealing the kindly familiar face of an elderly human. "Hello, there," he said.

The troopers went berserk and fled into the desert, leaving the droids behind. The commander held his ground. "It can't be…" he muttered from behind his helmet.

Leia stepped forward. "Ben Kenobi? What just happened?"

Kenobi smiled. "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded." He let that cryptic comment hang in the air for a few moments and turned to the commander. "I mean no offense, but I'm a little surprised to see you still standing there. Perhaps, you thought you could take on a pair of rancors yourself?"

The commander pointed at Kenobi. "You're a Jedi."

The older man crossed his arms. "I suppose I am."

In a swift motion, the commander removed his helmet, revealing a deeply tanned, scarred visage. "Commander Matau at your service, General Kenobi."

"Kenobi?" came the shocked voice of the protocol droid who was shuffling toward them, followed closely by the astromech.

Kenobi smiled. "Well, this isn't at all what I expected. Come, all of you. Let us get out of this heat."

Leia fell into step behind the motley crew of beings. Han jogged up to her side.

"And here, I thought this trip to see your family was going to be boring."

She ignored him.

_What just happened?_ She asked herself.


	6. 5: Revelation

5: Revelation

Luke Organa was playing a very dangerous game. He sat in darkness contemplating his next move.

Historical records concerning the Jedi were sketchy—probably a result of Emperor Palpatine's manipulations. Nearly twenty years had passed since the destruction of the Jedi and they had quickly become the stuff of legend, a scapegoat for some and a source of inspiration for others. Luke's opinions on the Jedi favored the latter, however Vader was a mystery.

His Jedi powers were unmistakable, yet there was something else to his connection to the Force. It was malevolent and angry. While Luke had only been able to brush the fringes of the Force once or twice under Vader's training, what he had felt had been warm and reassuring and fulfilling. Despite Vader's insistence that Luke allow his anger and fear to forge his connection with the Force, Luke knew there had to be something else.

His decision to agree to Vader's training had, at first, been a distraction. It had kept him alive for longer and had given him time to contemplate an escape. As the days had passed, Luke had noticed something else. Vader was lonely. There was an intense need for companionship and recognition that Luke could sense even without the Force. Though Luke's training had been very slow and he had not really accomplished anything so far, Vader seemed to almost enjoy their time together. That gave Luke pause.

What was his next move?

Should he escape and suffer Vader's wrath at what would surely be seen as a betrayal, or should he forge a connection with this being that had caused so much pain and destruction to those he was fighting for?

His train of thought was interrupted as Vader entered the room. In response to his arrival, dim lighting sprang into existence. For the first time, Luke could see just what the room was. Weapons from a thousand different worlds adorned the walls and inhabited glass-covered displays that made the room seem like a forest of malice and violence. A chill crept up Luke's spine.

The energy of expectation crackled invisibly throughout the chamber. Following Luke's fleeting experiences with the Force, he had begun to see Vader differently. It wasn't immediately visible, but if he closed his eyes, he could almost see a vicious crimson aura surrounding the cloaked being. Luke realized, suddenly, that he wasn't even sure what species Vader was. Cyborg species weren't uncommon, but Vader was unlike anything Luke had ever seen before.

"Your progress has been slow, young Skywalker."

Luke blinked. "Surely…"

Vader cut him off. "Open yourself to the dark side. Feel it flowing through you and you will have the power at your fingertips. Give in to your anger and fear. Shape them into a weapon. Don't let them control you. You are their master now."

"I don't understand."

"Call me master, my young apprentice. Only through me can you achieve a power great enough to overthrow the Emperor."

Luke spread his hands. "What must I do?"

"Defend yourself."

Without warning, several of the weapons detached themselves from the walls and sped towards Luke with deadly accuracy. They weren't being controlled by any kind of remote control, either, Luke realized as he dashed for cover. Vader's mind was in control of this entire room. A humming vibrosword passed within centimeters of Luke's ear.

Vader raised his hands and the weapons rounded on Luke. "Let your anger destroy them!" Vader commanded. "Hiding will not cease their attack."  
>Luke rose and faced the approaching weapons, but ducked at the last second as several sharp edges whizzed by. His mind was an unfocused blur. Vader was a still, quiet pillar of control. He barely had to gesture to control the vibroswords and axes, yet Luke could only think of not getting sliced to ribbons.<p>

His heart thudding behind his eyes, Luke reached toward an approaching axe and willed it to change course. His hand reached out and he imagined grasping the axe from the air and sending it toward the ground. Nothing happened. The axe continued to approach him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a slender vibroblade heading towards his left ear. Giving up on the axe, he ducked and tried to grasp the smaller blade with his outstretched hand. He felt his fingers brush the smooth hilt, but at the last second the blade angled toward the ceiling. His fingers closed on air. A second later a searing pain ripped through his clenched fingers as the tip of a ceremonial saber of some kind drew a red line across his fist.

Frustration and anger boiled up inside him like escaping magma. He stood, ignoring the pain in his hand. "Stop this!"

Vader gestured again and, though most of the weapons fell to the ground, a lone spear traced a deadly line straight toward Luke's midsection. He turned to avoid the weapon, but found himself up against a glass display. He was trapped.

"Stop this!" he said again, panicked. The spear was going to skewer him. Stretching out his hand, he struggled vainly to arrest its movement. "Stop! Stop!" Sweat sprung out on his forehead as the spear whizzed closer and closer. "Stop! STOP!" A rush of sheer, animalistic terror coursed through him, arcing through his outstretched hand like electricity. A sensation of falling combined with a giddy elation blossomed inside his chest as he felt himself _reach_ toward the spear.

The spear did not slow down. Instead it seemed to impact against an impossibly resilient barrier. The shaft splintered into fragments as the ornate spear head skittered across the tiled floor. The breath Luke had been holding suddenly whooshed out of him all at once and his knees very nearly buckled.

Vader lowered his hands and approached Luke, his strides even. "You have just tasted the unlimited power of the Force. I can feel the dark side coursing through you. You have done well."

Luke relaxed all at once and could do the only thing his mind was capable of at that moment. He laughed.

* * *

><p>Commander Matau lingered at the rear of the odd procession towards the hermit's desert home. The girl, Leia, walked quietly behind the old man, while the Wookiee and the smuggler followed her. Hardly anyone spoke.<p>

The smuggler, Han, turned over his shoulder to take in the erstwhile stormtrooper. "You know, I'd be much more comfortable if you were in front of me."

Matau grinned. "If I wanted to shoot you, I would have done so, already. In fact, I could have taken you all out before you had a chance to even blink."

Han adopted a condescending smile. "Now that's interesting, friend. Based on my experience, you Imperial drones couldn't hit the broad side of a bantha if you wanted to."

"That's because it's more fun to aim straight for the eyes." He mimed taking a shot at Han.

The smuggler seemed to try hard to come up with some kind of appropriate response, but ended up just looking confused and turning back towards the Jedi and the girl.

Matau's smile faded. A thousand voices rose up in his memory. The diminutive green Jedi general who had first led him into battle. The legendary Commander Cody, pride of the Republic army. The lithe Ayla Secura, the only being to ever catch his eye and the only being who had flat out refused his advances. The secretive Kaminoan, Fen Groa, who had handled his training, and who had been exiled by the prime minister himself for tampering with clone development. He saw the agonized face of the citizens of Nar Shaddaa when news of the Jedi rebellion and purge reached them. The listening post he had been guarding had suddenly seemed a triviality.

Ignoring the searing heat, Matau shoved the helmet back onto his head and hid his terrible memories along with his face.

* * *

><p>Ben Kenobi's home was small, but cool. Unfortunately, there was little room for the whole troupe. Han and Chewie went out back to bicker with the stormtrooper some more. Leia watched them leave, her mind filling to the brim with a million questions to ask the mysterious Commander.<p>

She turned to Kenobi. "How do you know him? The stormtrooper, I mean?"

"That," he said lowering himself into a seat, "is probably a story best told at a later time. For now, I'm curious to know how you came to be embroiled in such an outlandish confrontation out in the middle of the Jundland Wastes."

She smiled. "I have been asking myself that same question over and over since we met you."

"The Force is mysterious in its workings."

"The Force? You mentioned that earlier."

Kenobi leaned forward. "It is an energy field created by all living things. It binds the galaxy together at its most basic level, surrounding us at all times. It is what gives a Jedi their power."

"And you were a Jedi?" she asked.

"Oh, a long time ago."

"So, you must have fought in the Clone Wars."

"Along with your father, yes."

She shook her head. "My father was hardly such a warrior. He was a captain on a spice freighter. He died a meaningless death before I was even old enough to talk."

Kenobi shook his head, his eyes suddenly clouding over with something heavy and dark. "That's what your uncle told you. It wasn't a meaningless death, either."

Leia leaned back slightly. The elderly man's words seemed pained. "I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken."

Kenobi shook his head. "Anakin Skywalker was one of the most gifted Jedi I had ever met. He was a skilled pilot, a cunning warrior," he paused slightly. "And he was a good friend."

The truth and subtle emotions contained in Kenobi's simple statement were so genuine; she couldn't help but believe him. Her father, a Jedi? Images of the embarrassing, unimportant man she had distanced herself from seemed to flicker. "How did he die, then?"

The older man looked her straight in the eyes. "A pupil of mine called Darth Vader fell into the clutches of the dark side of the Force. He betrayed and murdered your father."

Leia leaned back, stunned. Not sure if she believed Kenobi's words, the realization that her uncle had lied to her—probably to protect her from the evil truth—shook her to the core.

Kenobi suddenly smiled and rose to his feet. "That reminds me. I have something for you. Your father wanted you to have it when you were old enough, but your uncle forbid it. He was terrified that you would rush off with me to fight in some war—what he called a 'damn fool idealistic crusade'—as your father did." He reached into a storage trunk and pulled out a metal cylinder, which he handed to Leia. "It's your father's lightsaber."

She thumbed the activation switch on the side and a shimmering blue blade lanced into existence. The energy blade hummed as if it was alive. Leia stared into the blade's gleaming white core, hoping to find some kind of lingering sense of who its previous owner was. She turned to Kenobi, but before she could speak, the golden protocol droid crashed through the door, waving his arms wildly. Han and the stormtrooper dashed in after it.

"What part of 'private conversation' don't you understand, Goldenrod!"

"I'm so sorry, sir, but it's Artoo. He insists that he must speak with Obi-Wan Kenobi at once. Something about a secret mission."

Leia turned to Kenobi. "Obi-Wan?"

He smiled. "A name I have tried my very best to hide from. It seems it has caught back up with me." He turned to the droid. "Bring the astromech in."


End file.
